


All is fair in love and fair games Or The ferris wheel story

by Nenchen



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Betaed, Boundaries, Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Feel-good, Ferris Wheels, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gentle Kissing, Humor, I already WENT to soft jail for this, I will go to soft jail for this, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Liberal use of Footnotes, M/M, POV Aziraphale (Good Omens), Romantic Fluff, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Tooth-Rotting Fluff, VEry close to confession, fair visit, hand kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:35:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26429479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nenchen/pseuds/Nenchen
Summary: After moving into a shared cottage in the south downs, visiting the village fair shouldn’t change much about Aziraphale’s and Crowley’s relationship. Right?A story featuring carnival games, some kisses, Crowley being feral with food, proverbs and a ferris wheel ride.Crowley gently touched his shoulder, bringing him back to the now. He pointed at the ferris wheel, whose lights separated it from the pitch-black night sky.“Did you want to take a turn with that?”Oh yes, how he wanted to. They almost had, that last time, but it had seemed too risky. Too intimate. Improper, inappropriate, ill-advised, impossible. So he’d had to refuse the invitation.“I would like that,” Aziraphale said with a smile as bright as the lights around them.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 31
Kudos: 64





	All is fair in love and fair games Or The ferris wheel story

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VirtualCarrot (Kaoro)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaoro/gifts).



> Many people are responsible for this.
> 
> First and foremost the lovely [Carrot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaoro/pseuds/VirtualCarrot), who inspired this, is generally awesome, and will 100% scream at me.
> 
> Second, the wonderful [Shez](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LTRisBACK/pseuds/LTRisBACK), who encouraged me, raced me and also wrote another version of this concept that can be found [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26356003)!
> 
> And, thirdly, the MVP, [Book](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookLoverL/pseuds/BookLoverL), who proofread and britpicked this for me.

It was a beautiful late summer evening at the cottage.

The air smelled of flowers, and of the kind of dusty earth smell you only get after a long, hot summer, and of the tomato plants that were close to the porch. Bees were humming busily around the gloriosa daisies planted in the same pots, gathering pollen and nectar. Some of the tomatoes were already ripe, sitting on the plants like jewels, shining, red and appetizing.[1]

The peaceful, serene scene was disturbed by loud music and motor noises. Most people that looked approximately Aziraphale’s age would have been annoyed by this, grumbling something about the youths these days or something even more unkind. Aziraphale, however, lit up and poured some of the never-ending, always-cold homemade lemonade into the second glass that had been sitting empty next to him. Soon after, the sound of footsteps approaching could be heard over the bees and the leaves rustling in the breeze, the sound of feet clad in not-quite shoes and the sound of steps that were just a bit off from the sauntering gait they belonged to.

Crowley stepped onto the porch and melted into a boneless pile on the wicker chair next to Aziraphale.[2]  
He was wearing a truly summery outfit: a slightly washed out skintight pair of black denim pants, a dark grey long-sleeved shirt, and, over it, a long, kimono style jacket in black with an intricate snake pattern in deep burgundy. He threw his head back, one arm over his face, brushing the hair away and shielding his eyes from the sun, and let out a long groan.

“It’s so hot. Can barely think.”

“I wonder why. Surely not because you’re wearing layers of dark, dense fabrics.”

That remark earned him a squinting glare.

Aziraphale pressed the drink into his hand with a silent smile. Crowley jumped a bit as the coolness of it hit his skin, and then downed it in one go. Including the mint leaves, the slice of lemon and the three ice cubes. Oh well.

“Life saver, that’s what this is. Much better than what they have as life savers in the states at least, that’s just ring-shaped sweets. How’s that supposed to save a life, that’s what I ask!” Crowley rambled, as he got himself upright enough to pour and down another glass.

“Well, you could use them to treat hypoglycemia, I should think. Or if your tongue is flexible enough, I suppose you could widen the opening enough to wear them as emergency jewelry,” Aziraphale mused.

Crowley shot him a look.

“It was ONE TIME, how do you keep bringing this up? And you were the only one who noticed because you insisted on kissing my hand! No-one even did that any more!”

“It certainly was a one of a kind treat, my dear,” Aziraphale smiled, disarming the demon to slightly flushed grumbling.

“Oh! On the note of treats. Adam came by this afternoon with his friends on their-” he side-eyed Crowley until their eyes met for a split second-

_“velocipedes-“_

Crowley groaned again and he let his eyes crinkle up slightly in mirth.

“-and told me they were on their way to the fair in our town! You like fairs, don’t you?”

Crowley’s mouth twitched into a half-smile.

“When did we even talk about fairs?”

“Quite a lot of times over the years actually. The first I remember was the world fair, which one was it you visited again? I think it was 1854-“

“The one in Munich, yeah. But that was not a _fun_ fair, angel.”

“Yes, yes, but I do also recall you kept raving on about the fair food after your last visit in the states, dear. What was it again?”

Crowley muttered something incomprehensible.

“What was that, my dear?” Aziraphale grinned.

“Fried butter, and you knew that, you bastard. And you also know you’d enjoy it too, so you really don’t have the high ground here. I remember the gusto with which you ate that buttered, fried lobster. Not to mention that butter soup that one time-” Crowley countered.

They bickered until late in the evening, only stopping for the short time it took Aziraphale to prepare a charcuterie board as a late dinner, and decided to go to the fair the next day in the evening, because Aziraphale was partial to the lights.

* * *

They drove over in the Bentley when the sun was starting to set, the car’s music almost drowning out the sounds of the fair, the bebop playing, the screaming children, the various beeping sounds from various stands, the sellers screaming to sell their wares. Truly, the base elements of a fair had stayed the same over the years, which was one of the reasons Aziraphale appreciated them.

Crowley gallantly opened the door for him, and Aziraphale countered by slotting their hands together as they walked up to the stall for the entrance fee. It still smelled like summer, but there was also the distinct smell of sizzling meat and sugary treats as they walked up to the entrance booth. Aziraphale paid, got them to the first stand, which was selling some locally produced cider, and bought some of that, all while holding Crowley’s hand. Just like that. Where everyone could see it.

It felt exhilarating.

Only when they stopped at a bar table, charmingly crafted from a wooden barrel, did Crowley come out of his daze enough to grumble and squeeze his hand slightly. Aziraphale hid his smile in his cup.

“What do you want to do first? Are you feeling peckish, or should we visit some of the carnival games?”

His answer was a thoughtful hum while Crowley took a sip of his cider.

“I think we should go for the rides first. Don’t think I’ll stand any chance of getting you on one with food on your stomach,” he proposed nonchalantly.

Aziraphale shot him a look.

“Thank you for your consideration, but I am quite certain that I won’t partake in any of them. Feel free to enjoy getting roughhoused by gravitational and centripetal force without me, however. I am sure it will be an entertaining sight, at least.”

Crowley looked up at him over the rim of his cup and his glasses with a mischievous grin.

“I accept your challenge, angel,” he said, taking his hand up to his lips and placing a gentle kiss on the knuckles, like a parody of a knight accepting a damsel’s request. Aziraphale felt himself flush despite the exaggerated dramatics of the scene.

“Well, may the better one win. And since you refuse to label yourself as even just “good”, I think that shall be me,” he countered, taking another smug sip of his cider.

“Hey, foul play!”

“Yes, that’s what I expect from you, dear,” Aziraphale said with an amused smirk, which Crowley returned.

“You know the saying, angel. All’s fair in love and-” he flushed, then creased his brows upwards in a frown- “fair games?”

Aziraphale was way too pleased by the slip up to correct him.

“It sure sounds fitting,” he mused, and finished the rest of his cider. “Alright then. Shall we?”

Crowley’s eyes, which had previously looked into the distance,[3] snapped back up to meet his. Then he downed his own cider with a decisive swig.

“We shall!”

* * *

A few hours later they had tried just about everything the fair had to offer, except the rides.

Crowley had proven to be a surprisingly good shot, and at first he’d won Aziraphale an array of cheap synthetic roses in all kinds of colors. He had acted outraged when Aziraphale had fashioned them into a small bouquet and put them into his breast pocket, but the angel had insisted that he wouldn’t hide any present the demon gave him any longer, which Crowley had no argument against. However, he’d soon discovered another shooting stall, one that didn’t have prizes to win, but instead made all kinds of infernal noises and shot water at passers-by. Lit up with demonic glee like a child at Christmas, he had proceeded to annoy everyone in the vicinity of the stall until the owner had given them a glare and Aziraphale mentioned he would like to try some of the food items now. They nibbled their way through the fair, eating some fried pickles, sharing candy floss, trying both sweet and hearty funnel cakes, and in a flight of culinary curiosity they even tried the churros.[4]

Then, after he’d heard Crowley retell the tale of his glorious shooting skills and how he was the king of the fair[5] one too many times, he’d spotted a strength tester.

With his least convincing innocent smile he’d suggested that “his majesty” give this one a try. After Crowley had won a baby dummy sweet, as a consolation for his baby strength, he’d then proceeded to hit the bell three times in a row, baffling the showman running the stand, and winning him a stuffed animal of his choice. He chose, of course, the available, longer than his own body, bendable and pitch-black stuffed snake. It had reversible sequins in green and red on its belly. He then proceeded to wrap it around Crowley’s shoulders. When the demon had protested, he’d simply said that it was for Warlock, of course, and kissed his cheek. Crowley hadn’t sent it to the Bentley after, claiming it was too obvious to miracle away quickly. But Aziraphale saw him absentmindedly fidgeting with the sequins as they continued their stroll.

During all of this, the sun had gone down completely, the fair now lit up by the various lights on the rides and stalls. Everything was now illuminated by lights in all colors of the spectrum,[6] and it made the world into something of a different place. A brighter, more colorful place. A softer place. This was the thing that had truly endeared the fairs to Aziraphale, years ago, when he had visited one with Crowley. Because just for a bit, the world had been filled with only light, and joy, a secluded space in which only they and the humans and earth existed. A world in which what he wanted had been almost possible. Almost within reach.

Crowley gently touched his shoulder, bringing him back to the now. He pointed at the ferris wheel, whose lights separated it from the pitch-black night sky.

“Did you want to take a turn with that?”

Oh yes, how he wanted to. They almost had, that last time, but it had seemed too risky. Too intimate. Improper, inappropriate, ill-advised, impossible. So he’d had to refuse the invitation.

“I would like that,” Aziraphale said with a smile as bright as the lights around them.

They didn’t have to wait long in line, since this ferris wheel was one of those that didn’t do stops. A shame, but then again, no risk of getting stuck only just above the ground, Aziraphale supposed. They spent the wait amicably bickering about why pony rides like the one located right next to them should be abolished. Aziraphale was arguing that it must be quite boring for the poor things to only go in circles, while Crowley was of the opinion that ponies were too diabolic to be interacting with children over prolonged periods of time quite so carelessly. Aziraphale didn’t mention it, but he was quite sure the underlying reason for this was Warlock’s pony riding lessons and the many ailments they’d given his poor Nanny.

Then it was finally their turn to take a turn, and they settled into the surprisingly comfortable seats. The protective metal belt came down in front of them, the lady securing it smiled and wished them a good ride, and off they went. The fair below quickly shrank, merging into a sea of colorful lights. Further out he could see the warmer and less colourful glow of the lights of the town, of the lights lining the streets, the lit-up windows, and of the few restaurants that were still open.

Aziraphale’s heart was overflowing with emotions. Humans always did find a way to make things special, to light the world. He could never understand how anyone could look down to earth like this and not see the beauty of it all.

Next to him, the only other being who could possibly understand wasn’t quietly enjoying the ride, but fidgeting in his seat. Just as he was about to turn, he saw something drop down out of the corner of his eye. The next moment, the wheel stood still and the lights on the cabins went out. He heard Crowley cursing under his breath.

“Crowley. What did you just do?” he asked, turning fully.

Crowley, who had been bent over the railing, looked up at him with faux innocence.

“Me? Angel, not everything bad happening has to do with me. That’s too much credit.”

Aziraphale fixed him with an unimpressed stare.

“Alright, alright, I just wanted to film the ride. And I dropped my phone. And by the looks of it, it dropped right into the machinery. Really though, not like it’s my fault that happened. There should be protections against that kind of stuff!”

From beneath them shouts could be heard, and some clanking of metal as the humans got started working on the machinery. Aziraphale sighed, snapped and handed Crowley his perfectly fine phone back.

“Oh, but now we are stuck on this contraption until they fix it. They already noticed something is wrong so we can’t simply miracle it fixed. We promised Adam to do only miracles that won’t attract attention! If I have to get down this thing on a ladder, I shall be very cross with you.”

“I’m sure the thing just blew a fuse or something. Must have. That’s why the lights are out too! We’ll be running again in no time,” Crowley said reassuringly.

He faltered a bit at seeing Aziraphale’s expression.

“Angel, you just said you’ll be cross with me if we have to get off on a ladder. I don’t see any ladder now, so you can’t be cross with me!”

“I said I shall be _very_ cross with you then,” Aziraphale said haughtily. “But it is still a beautiful sight, so I’ll forgive you for now.”

“It really is, isn’t it? The sky’s so clear you can see a lot of stars, now that the light is out.” Crowley immediately latched on, voice tinged with relief.

He leaned forward to better crank his head upwards, starting a story about some astronomer he’d known in the 14th century, and Aziraphale smiled fondly. They had been stargazing quite a few times since the world had not quite started anew. Since the promise of their side. With neither of them ready to fill the silent night with the words that had been tied on the tip of their tongues since the beginning quite yet, they had instead filled it with talk about the stars: about the humans who had studied them, named them, paired them together into signs over and over, learned more about the universe through them. About stars leading wanderers home. About poems and stories written, paintings painted. About which ones Crowley had known personally. Once, they’d even come close to it all and talked about Alpha Centauri, apologies and forgiveness and lightheartedness following.

A gust of wind hit them, making the cabin swing gently and Crowley shiver, and Aziraphale realized how cold Crowley had to be. Today of all days he’d decided to dress more appropriately for summer by wearing only a short-sleeved shirt and a thin jacket made of some kind of chiffony transparent fabric with a geometric pattern in slightly darker colour. It certainly looked very debonair, but it couldn’t be very warming.

Crowley was still chattering, but fell silent as Aziraphale spread his own coat over his shoulders. He turned, eyes wide underneath his glasses, and Aziraphale smiled at him.

“You seemed cold.”

Crowley just kept staring.

“Please don’t drop this one, dear, I really am fond of it. You know I’ve kept it in tip-top condition ever since I got it.”

He offered an out for Crowley, as a way back to their normal bickering. The well-tread path. Security.

Crowley didn’t take it.

“How do you always do this?” he whispered instead, expression unreadable, voice brimming with raw emotion.

“What?”

“This. You always just. Do things for me, whenever I need them. Surprise me with your kindness. Like in Eden. Like in Rome. Like in- you know. All those times, I know you know. I don’t even know why I’m surprised every time, it’s just. Just how do you always manage to make me feel like this?”

“Oh, _Crowley,_ ” Aziraphale whispered, his voice coming out as impossibly soft as he was feeling himself.

He did not know who had moved, possibly both of them, but he found himself with his arms full of slightly cool demon, a face buried in the crook of his neck and their arms wrapped tightly around each other.

“Don’t you know I ask myself the same?” he said, his voice quiet right next to Crowley’s ear, delighting in how it made the fine hairs on his skin stand up. “I still remember every detail of when you handed me back my books, after the bombing of the church. The look on your face, the way our fingers grazed for just a few moments. Completely shell-shocked, there was nothing else I could think about.”

Crowley laughed against his neck, a bit wetly, and squeezed him tighter.

“You know if you think about it, I only arranged for that church to be bombed because you were in there, meeting with Nazis. So really, you’re the one liable for the whole church bombing affair.”

“Let’s agree that the both of us are to blame, dear,” Aziraphale chuckled.

Another gust of wind hit the cabin, but this time Crowley didn’t shiver, just hugged the angel closer.

“Do you want me to say what I thought, back then?” the angel offered.

There was a pause, suddenly heavy.

“I. I don’t think I can hear it yet, angel. Sorry,” Crowley mumbled into his skin, the grip of his hands tightening.

Aziraphale stroked his back reassuringly.

“Don’t worry, dear, I understand. It feels dreadfully exposing, doesn’t it? Unsafe. Really, just thinking about saying it makes my heart pound.”

Crowley nodded.

“But as long as you say yet, I shan’t be worried about it. We have time. We will get used to being safe in being us soon enough, I have complete faith in that.”

“I do feel safe, being with you. Just need to stop worrying about everything else,” Crowley murmured, and Aziraphale was overcome by the feeling again.

He dropped a kiss into Crowley’s hair before he could stop himself, and Crowley melted against him with a sigh. Feeling brave, Aziraphale carded the hand that had been stroking Crowley’s back through his hair instead, petting gently, and got a small, satisfied noise as reward.

He jumped when just a second later, the lights came back on and the ride continued. Crowley shot up, moving away again, moving his head in the way Aziraphale had seen him scanning crowds for millennia. He sighed wistfully at the loss of Crowley’s comfortable weight against him, only to be surprised when the demon settled back into his side after his short burst of vigilance. He tentatively put an arm around him and the demon covered his hand with his own, briefly bringing it up to his face to place a kiss on the meat of its palm. Casually. As if this was something they always did. Aziraphale was glad he wasn’t wearing his coat now, because he felt very warm.

Soon they reached ground level again and got off the ride. Aziraphale insisted that Crowley keep the coat for now, despite his protests of how unfashionable it was, which were shut down by Aziraphale remarking that he found Crowley quite fetching in anything he wore. And like that, they slowly made their way back, across the fair, to the Bentley, and back to the cottage, where they retired to the library like they did most evenings. Aziraphale settled into the couch to read and Crowley settled into his side.

“You know, angel,” Crowley said after a bit of companionable silence.

“Hmm?”

“I did get you on a ride with me in the end.”

Aziraphale let out an amused huff.

“You won this time, my dear. But, as the German proverb says, misfortune in the game, fortune in love.”

He grinned as Crowley sputtered. Some day, they would both be able to say the words out loud. Until then, he’d enjoy things just as they were.

* * *

**1** Most of the plants were paired off with another. Crowley seemed very happy to do so after he’d read that article about how some plants could further each other’s growth. Curiously, he’d also been yelling at them a lot less ever since. [return to text]

 **2** He had been against wicker chairs at first, claiming them to be unstylish. He had conceded after realizing his granite chair was both too hot during the day and too cool in the evening. Aziraphale had moved it to the flowerbeds, repurposing it into a bird bath by simply putting a bowl on it. Crowley had grumbled about the aesthetics again, but he did like watching the birds from his vantage point on the porch in his _wicker chair._ [return to text]

 **3** Not that there was much of a distance to look into in this crowded place, but, metaphorically. [return to text]

 **4** Which had been delicious, but Crowley drinking and licking the rest of the thick chocolate sauce they’d come with was really a bit unnecessary and improper. The star-eyed looks some of the children had given him were making Aziraphale worried for their dental health and the sanity of their parents. [return to text]

 **5** After the shooting he had also won a gaming console at a game of tin can shy and some surprisingly decent wine at a game of balloon popping. They’d miracled them back into the Bentley so they wouldn’t have to carry those around all evening. Aziraphale had, however, kept the small bouquet of plastic roses in his breast pocket, since Crowley had been glancing at them and smiling all evening. [return to text]

 **6** At least the ones humans could perceive. [return to text]

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to tell me about spelling errors, grammar errors and britpick. Please do not leave any other kind of critic because I actually like this fic as it is. 
> 
> Come visit my tumblr at [goodduckingomens](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/goodduckingomens).  
> Comments and Kudos very much motivate me, so please leave some if you had fun! Keysmash comments appreaciated for the true Crowleys out there.


End file.
